


To Lose

by Yashitsu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Blood and Injury, Other, Reader-Insert, Seriously read the warnings, Violent Sex, ambiguous reader, no pronouns, this is not a nice fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yashitsu/pseuds/Yashitsu
Summary: After weakening them in a fight, Sephiroth claims the reader. Violently.





	To Lose

**Author's Note:**

> As the warnings state, this is non-consensual. It's not the kind of noncon where reader becomes ok with it partway through either, just so you know that. No pronouns are used in the actual fic and the reader's body is not described.

It hurts. You're lightheaded, your vision is blurry, and you feel like you're about to pass out, but you can't for some reason. You wish you could. You're beyond your limits, you can't even really move your body anymore, and yet you're still conscious. Conscious of the pain, mostly in your leg (broken?) and your shoulder blade (cut deeply), but you feel a dull ache everywhere else too. Everything is pain. Everything except _him_ moving inside you. White-hot sparks of awful, unwanted pleasure shoot through you with every thrust of Sephiroth's hips. Why? It shouldn't feel like this. It should hurt like everything else. Why doesn't it?

_Because you need this. You need to be ruled over._

It's a traitorous thought, so much so that you cast it aside as if it's not even your own. You don't. You never have. You never will.

_You do._

No. No, you just want to pass out so you can stop feeling the way Sephiroth is fucking you in short, harsh, desperate thrusts. You just want to stop being aware of how he's curled in so damn close to you, how you can feel his breath on your neck and his hair brushing your cheek. You hate it.

_You only want to hate it._

The pain is lessening, a little, but your awareness refuses to, and to your horror you can feel something changing, building. There's no way. There's no way anyone could actually wring an _orgasm_ out of your exhausted body, especially not him.

_Only he could._

No. No, never, but yet. But yet, it's happening. The pleasure is blinding, it's all-consuming, and you know you're about to spill over. And then Sephiroth mutters your name, so softly, like you're his fucking _lover_ and that, of all things--

_What else?_

You come. You want so much to cry out in defiance, but all that comes out when you try is a pathetic whimper. Sephiroth fucks you through your orgasm, your body a live wire, the tension agonizing near your wounds. The pleasure saturates all other sensations, though, to the point where the pain just feels like _more_. It's only when you feel the pleasure ebb and Sephiroth goes still above you, groaning your name again, that you finally, mercifully fall into unconsciousness.


End file.
